Here We End
by arumnestpotestas
Summary: About 5 years after the first apocalypse (almost) took place, Michael and Lucifer work together to break out of the cage and to destroy humanity...
1. Prologue

_It was just like I always said, but at the same time it wasn't. I knew I was right when I told Dean that no matter what choices he made, whatever details he altered, that we would always end up… **here**. But I didn't know it would be like this. In some ways I liked it better this way._

 _But that is not a good place to start this particular tale. You'll have to forgive my wandering mind; I have lived for thousands of years, I am the devil after all, so I suppose it makes sense for my thoughts to wander. Anyway, this is a tale of two brothers, or four I suppose. It started with Michael and I, but our vessels have stories of their own, as I'm sure you know. After Sam and Dean Winchester first thwarted my plan to bring about the apocalypse, Michael, his vessel, Sam, and I were all thrown into the pit…_


	2. Chapter 1

_Oh how I hate this place, but I doubt I'll ever get the chance to escape again. First I was thrown down here by Michael, and then again at the whim of two brothers. Two_ _ **humans**_ _._ Lucifer just couldn't figure out what had gone wrong. He had spent all of those centuries in this horrid prison, planning out every single little detail of his plan, thinking of all the things that could go wrong and creating hundreds of back up plans for them. But the one thing he didn't anticipate was the love the two brothers had for each other and their willingness to sacrifice themselves for each other. _Before_ _ **humans**_ _were created Michael and I used t-_

He cut off that thought abruptly and, snarling in anger, he punched Adam hard in the stomach. Adam groaned in pain but it was no worse than anything else he had endured during one of the brothers' "fits." Lucifer and Michael generally used him as a punching bag to relieve their frustrations. At first Lucifer and Michael had just fought each other over and over and over again, Adam and Sam getting caught in the crossfire every now and then, but now that Sam was gone, they were just content to torture Adam.

Lucifer hit him again, this time in the jaw. Adam whimpered pathetically before flinching as Lucifer raised his fist again. Adam endured blow after blow as silently as he could. He knew that Lucifer didn't like hearing his screams, but he couldn't keep every single gasp or cry from coming out into the open. Michael was a different matter though; he seemed to love listening to any pained noise Adam made. Adam cursed the day he had given his consent to be a vessel to the malicious archangel.

Michael, sensing his brother's rage, came over and started beating on Adam as well. By the time they were finished his "body" wasn't even intact and his soul was nearly ripped in half. They'd done worse but they both knew better than to damage their toy too much. All three of the prisoners knew that Adam would be healed by tomorrow, relatively speaking.

There was no time in the Pit. No sun, no moon, no light. It was the deepest, darkest, and loneliest part of hell. At least it was until Michael and Adam fell in with Lucifer. It changed constantly so you never knew what to expect. One day it would be frozen over, the next day fire would engulf every corner of the pit, another time it would shrink until the three were pressed uncomfortably close together, another lightning would strike the occupants, another knives would be hurled from thin air to strike anything they could reach, and sometimes, a fierce windstorm would force the angel's out of the "sky" and down onto the "floor" with Adam.

Some things stayed the same though. It was always pitch black, with six sides, and tattered old feathers piled up on the floor. Lucifer looked down at his own broken feathers and choked back a sob. The floor was covered in broken, torn, and bent black and red feathers, so that no one knew what the floor even looked like anymore. It was the only comfort this personalized Hell provided, a nice soft bed. He had been surprised the first time his feathers started molting and remained on the floor the next "day". He would've thought that Pit would take away everything he loved. At the very bottom of the pile, there were still some of his original, elegant, gold and white feathers, that had slowly turned black and red after spending so much time down in this Hellhole.

Lucifer looked at his own wings in disgust. They were still magnificent appendages, but the feathers looked like they had been dragged through a thick forest of thorns and covered with the pitch black night sky without the stars, before the bottoms were dipped in a pool of blood. He gazed over at Michael's wings, whose beautiful, pure white feathers were only just starting to bend and darken.

He sighed and flew to the other side of the Pit and sat down, leaning his back against the wall, wrapped his arms around his knees, put his face down, and hid himself with his broken wings out of shame. A few minutes later he felt a gentle hand stroking the coverts down to the secondary feathers on his right wing before doing the same to the left.

In a strange way, being thrown into the deepest, darkest part of hell made the two archangel brothers closer. Lucifer finally was able to tell Michael his version of events, as the victim, and how God had abandoned them. At first Michael had refused to believe it, insisting that Lucifer was just being a dishonorable child, a horrible son, a disgrace amongst angels, but then, as the centuries started to drag on, he allowed himself to believe. Michael's newfound hatred for his deadbeat father, began to rival that of his younger brother's.

Soon, Michael became the bad one and Lucifer the relative "good" one of their screwed up family, and their arguments occurred less and less often as their original, loving relationship began to assert itself again. Before too long they started plotting together, ways to get out of the cage, to get revenge on their father who had lied to them for so long, to destroy his " _precious"_ creations that started the whole mess.

Lucifer looked up at Michael and his big brother knelt down next to him, placing both hands on his shoulders, looked him in the eyes, and said, "Hey, it's going to be fine Luce. We won't have to stay here too much longer. We just have to make sure we stick to the plan and we will get out of her e in no time." Michael made sure Lucifer was meeting his gaze before adding, "I promise."

Lucifer nodded, having no doubt that they would. After all, Michael was his brother, and his brother never broke his promises. Michael pulled him in for a quick hug before pulling back and flying away quickly.

Lucifer sighed, after 451 years in the pit Michael had gotten much better at showing affection, but they still weren't able to go back to that easy comradeship they had shared when they were fledglings. Back when they were inseparable. They rarely had to speak to know when the other needed a hug or to play or to talk or to simply be held whilst they cried. Lucifer was impressed and proud of Michael's progress but he was also impatient. But he recognized that his brother needed time and so he gave Michael his emotional space and they continued finalizing the plan.

After about 666 years Hell time, five years and six months and a couple weeks human time, after the original apocalypse, they were ready to rise. Lucifer had remembered how after he was fist thrown down, the pit had felt very weak for a whole twelve months once it hit the 666 year mark. And so the brothers pounded their prison from the inside for the whole year, working together to get the best effect, and sending all of their combined force into one area at a time. Until, finally, it was weak enough for them to punch an archangel sized hole through it. Michael flew out first and turned to help his younger brother out, who was still rather weak. They rose together, dragging Adam along in their wake.


	3. Chapter 3

Back at the bunker things were going well for the Winchesters. Dean was cured, Castiel had his grace back, Crowley was keeping the demons in order, and Sam was working full time as a man of letters.

"Hey." Dean said as Sam walked into the kitchen, "I found us a case." He continued flipping pancakes while Sam wandered around sleepily.

"Already?" Sam groaned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He was hoping to have a few days to recover from their last case.

"Yup." Dean said cheerfully, ignoring Sam's irritated glare. "Another vamp's nest. Should be a nice, quick, clean, no moral dilemma, case."

Sam rolled his eyes. It was typical of Dean to still think that some things could remain so black and white. For all they knew, there was a spell to cure vampires in one of the books in the bunker. They'd already found a cure for werewolves and demons, so it was actually very likely that there was a cure for vampires too.

Sam yawned and ran his hands through his hair, changing his morning bedhead into a stylish hairdo with no effort, much to Dean's irritation. _I mean, is it too much to ask that he have one bad hair day?! He doesn't even own a brush for God's sake!_ Instead of voicing these less then complimentary thought's about Sam's hair he smirked at his little brother and said "Does Sammy need a wittle nap?"

Sam gave him his infamous bitchface and Dean laughed. Sam felt himself realize a little at hearing a sound that seemed so familiar, and yet alien at the same time. It had been a long time since Dean had laughed at something out of pure, simple, human amusement. It was nice to hear.

Still, he rolled his eyes and walked over to the fridge to get some maple syrup out for the pancakes he could smell cooking. He decided to relent and asked, "When do we leave?"

Dean paused, mid-flip. He had expected more complaining before a reluctant agreement after much bribing of healthy food. Je decoded to just let it go. "As soon as we've eaten and you're dressed. I've already packed up Baby so there will be no need to delay."

Sam nodded and walked into the library with his arms full of coffee, syrup, plates, and utensils.

Dean flipped the pancakes onto a plate, resulting in several upside-down pancakes and after a short struggle to get them to face the right way, and followed Sam into the library and setting it down on the table that Sam had already set two places were with the plates and utensils all engraved with the Men of Letters insignia, with napkins and syrup. Dean set the pancakes in between the napkins and syrup. He then sat in his chair, across from Sam, and looked around confused.

"Dude, where's the whipped cream?" Dean asked.

"There wasn't any left," Sam shrugged, hiding a smile behind his coffee. "Just eat the pancakes as they are. The sooner we're done eating, the sooner we can hit the road." It was nice to slip into their old routine. The one that they had before their dad died, they died, Bobby, Ellen, Jo, Cas, and so many others died. But most importantly, before Dean became a demon.

"You don't understand," Dean said, "I can't eat pancakes without whipped cream." He got up and ran back to the kitchen to check for himself. There was no whipped cream anywhere. He went stomping back to the library and flopped into his chair with a long-suffering sigh, purposefully being overdramatic because it was nice to see Sam smile again. He looked at Sam pathetically.

Sam smiled knowingly and stood up and stretched. "I'll go buy some more. We've needed to do a store run for a while now. I've got it."

Dean continued to pout and said "But by then the pancakes will be cold!" he sat their, sulking for a few seconds before lighting up with an idea. "We could just go get Cas and have him teleport to the store and back."

"Cas is still asleep. He needs to recover from that stab wound he got yesterday," Sam pointed out logically.

"Wasn't that on Monday though? He should be recovered by now." Dean argued.

"Monday was yesterday Dean. Today is Tuesday, remember?" Sam reminded him patiently. "I've got it. Really. I'll be back in 20 minutes."

He walked out of the room before Dean could protest.


	4. Chapter 4

Seven minutes later he was at the grocery store. Sam parked the Impala with a lot more care than was strictly necessary, but it was their home after all. He climbed out and had to suck in his stomach to squeeze between Baby and a familiar looking black 2-door 1986 GMC Sierra Grande that had almost crashed into him while he had been circling the parking lot. Sam didn't like having the truck so close to Baby, it almost seemed like the truck was going to

 _Damn_ , Sam thought, _where did they get their license?_ Shaking his head he dismissed the strangely familiar truck and its idiotic driver.

Sam walked brusquely to the door, trying to appear normal. He scoffed quietly at the word. Normal. It seemed like so long since he had thought that he could have a **_normal_** life. Ridiculous. His dad had been right all along. They had to sacrifice their own chance of happiness, normality, and the apple pie life, for the safety of the innocent.

While he was lost in his own, rather deep thoughts, he ambled around the store, picking up a case of beer here, a carton of eggs there, some salt and spray paint, and of course, a big bottle of Reddiwip whip cream.

Sam set his items down on the conveyer belt and waited patiently behind the elderly woman in front of him who had apparently lost her credit card. By the time the woman found her American Express card, which had been hiding in her pocket, the cashier was more than a little agitated. So when Sam stepped forward as the next customer she was out of patience and kindness for the day. For each and every item he placed on the conveyer belt, she had a comment to make. Beer, "alcoholic", eggs, "salmonella," salt, "high cholesterol," spray paint, "you're gonna get your ass arrested," and the Reddiwip, "are you sure that's enough for a man of your size?"

Sam wisely chose to remain silent throughout this verbal assault, rolling his eyes internally at the rude clerk and her petty comments. Finally he paid for his purchase, the clerk acting like a bitch every step of the way. Gathering his bags he left the bad tempered clerk to her job and started walking back to Baby. As soon as he saw the car from earlier Sam felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He froze and turned around, scanning the crowded lot but saw nothing other than a pregnant woman getting into her car, a small boy running in front of his irritated father, and a teenage girl walking into the store, talking on her phone.

He shook his head and started back towards the Impala again when he froze in horror. There in front of him, was Lucifer. Yes, he was in a different vessel now, a middle-aged businessman with graying hair in a black suit and briefcase in hand, but Sam would recognize him anywhere. He gasped and turned to run only to find his way blocked by another man, this one younger and more familiar looking. Adam.

Sam turned back to Lucifer and started to reach for his phone, only to find himself restrained from behind by Adam. He put up as much of a fight as he could but he was no match for an archangel. His last thought before Lucifer possessed him was _Tuesday really isn't my day_.

Michael released his brother and smiled at him, "Feeling better?"

Lucifer rolled Sam's neck and stretched his fingers to make sure he had full control of his new/old vessel. "Much," he said, smiling back. "Now, time to end this world and set things right."

Michael nodded. "Yes," he said a more feral grin stretching Adam's face, "we've got work to do." And with that, they left their black truck and piled into the Impala.


End file.
